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BOSTON. 

De Wolfe, Fiske x Co, 



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Cleveland's Serenade. ^ ^^z 

OVE wakes and weeps 
While beauty sleeps! 



O for Music's softest numbers ^^O 

To prompt a theme, %!l^ * •' Y j 
For Beauty's dream, ' % mS^"" 

Soft as the pillow of her slumbers! '-|^^ 

Thro' groves of palm 

Sigh gales of balm, 
Fire-flies on the air are wheeling; 

While thro' the gloom 

Comes soft perfume, 
The distant beds of flowers revealing. 



O wake and live ! 

ISTo dream can give 
A shadow'd bliss, the real excelling: 

No longer sleep. 

From lattice peep, 
And list the tale that love is telling! 




Ibave, ^ben, Zb^ TKIllsb 



HAVE, then, thy wish!"— He whistled shrill 
And he was answer'd from, the hill; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew 
From crag to crag- the signal flew. -^^^ 
Instant, through copse and heath arose 
Bonnets, and spears, and bended hows; ^"^^^^ 
On right, on left, above, below, 
Sprung up at once the lurJiing foe ; 
From shingles gray their lances start, 
The bracken bush sends forth the dart 
The rushes and the willow-wand v 

Are bristling into axe and brand, ^^ 

And every tuft of broom gives life 
To plalded warrior arm'd for strife. ^? ^ 
That whistle garrison'd the glen "— ^'> 
At once with full Ave hundred men, /' 
As if the yawning hill to heaven 
A subterranean host had given. 
Watching their leader's beck and will. 
All silent there they stood, . and still. 
Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass 
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass. 
As if an infant's touch could urge 
Their headlong passage down the verge, 
With step and weapon forward flung, 
Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 
Along Benledi's living side. 
Then fixed his eye and sable brow 




Full on Fitz-Janies:— "How say'st thou now? 
These are Clan-Alpine'8 warriors true; 
And, Saxon,— I am Roderick Dhu ! " ^^-^i 

Fitz-James was brave :— Though to his heart 

The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 

Return'd the chief his haughty stare. 

His back against a rock he bore. 

And firmly placed his foot before:— 

"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I." 

Sir Roderick mark'd,— and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise. 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foemen worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood;— then waved his hand: 

Down sunk the disappearing band; 

Each warrior vanish'd where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 

Sunk brand, and spear, and bended bow. 

In osiers pale, and copses low; 

It seem'd as if their mother Earth 

Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. 

— The Ladij of the Lake. 




'0^y^/ 




% » V-"^'"-- 






AISTD why stands Scotland idly now 
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow, 
Since England gains the pass the while, 
And struggles through the deep defile? 
AVhat checks the fiery soul of James ? 
Why sits that champion of the dames 

Inactive on his steed. 
And sees between him and his land, 
Between him and Tweed's southern strand. 
His host Lord Surrey lead? 
What Vails the vain knight-errant's brand? 
j^^jl — O, Douglas, for thy leading wand! 

Fierce Randolph for thy speed! 
O for one hour of Wallace wight, 
Or well-skilled Bruce to rule the fight, 
And cry,— "Saint Andrew and our right!" 
Another sight had seen that morn, 
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne !— 
The precious hour has pass'd in vain, 
And England's host had gained the plain: 
Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
Around the base of Flodden hill. 

— 9 J (arm ion. 








^be Xaet flDtnstrel. 

HE way was long:, the wind was cold, 
The Minstrel was inflrm and old; 
His withered cheek, and tresses g-ray,,-^ 
Seem'd to have known a better day; 
The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
Was carried by an orphan boy. ^ 
The last of all the Bards was he, 
Who sung- of Border chivalry; 
For, welladay! their date was fled. 
His tuneful brethern all were dead; 
And he, neglected and oppressed, 
Wish'd to be with them, and at rest. 
No more on prancing palfrey borne. 
He caroll'd light as lark at morn; 
No longer courted and caress'd. 
High placed in hall, a welcome guest. 
He pour'd, to lord and lady gay, 
The unpremeditated lay: 

Old times were changed, old manners gone: 
A stranger flU'd the Stuarts' throne; 
The bigots of the iron time 
Had call'd his harmless art a crime. 
A wandering Harper, scorn'd and poor. 
He begg'd his bread from door to door. 
And tuned to please a peasant's ear, 
The harp a king had loved to hear. 

'^n^^ —The Lay of the 







Last dliinfitrel. 



.^. 




Xese flDcrr? ie tbe JfaMng Xeaf. 



nr ESS merry, perchance, is the fading- leaf, 

-^-^ That follows so soon on the gathered sheaf. 

When the greenwood loses the name; 
Silent is then the forest bound. 

Save the redbreast's note, and the rustling sound 
Of frost-nipt leaves that are dropping round, 
Or the deep-mouth'd cry of the distant hound 

That opens on his game : 
Yet then, too, I love the forest wide, 
AVhether the sun in splendor ride, ^ 
And gild its many-color'd side; / t^ 
Or whether the soft or silvery haze, 
In vapory folds o'er the landscape strays. 
And half involves the woodland maze. 

Like an early widow's veil. 
Where wimpling tissue from the gaze 
The form half hides, and half betrays, 

Of beauty wan and pale. 

— fiarzld the Q)auntle6n. 






Burn'b flDarmion'9 Swartbi? (tbeeft< 

BURX'D Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
^ And shook his very frame for ire, 
'^^^^Iff^^ ^ And-"This to me!" he said- 



^■y V ''An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 

Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Doug-las' head! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 
He, who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

Even in thy pitch of pride. 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
(Nay, never look upon your lord. 
And lay your hands upon j^our sword,) fff 

I tell thee thou'rt defied! '^ 



1^ 



And if thou saidst I am not peer ^¥^'4^- ^ 
To any lord in Scotland here, /)i JaJ-^^ 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, ^ ^41^" ^^i 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " ; 
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age: 
Fierce he broke forth,— "And darest thou, then, 

To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall? 



And hopest tliou hence unscathed to go ?— 

No, hy Saint Bride of Both well, no ! 

Up drawbridge, grooms— what, Warder, ho! 

Let the portcullis fall." 
Lord Marmion turn'd,— well was his need, 
And dash'd the rowels in his steed. 
Like arrow through the archway sprung, 
The ponderous gate "behind him rung: 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 




Sonfl< 



"TTTHERE shall the lover rest, 
' ^ Whom the fates sever. 

From his true maiden's breast, 
Parted forever? 
Where, through groves deep and high, 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die, 
Under the willow 




There, through, the sumnier day, 
Cool streams are laving*; 

There, while the tempests sway. 
Scarce are houghs waving; 

There, thy rest shalt thou take, / 
Parted forever, ^"^v 

Never again to wake, ^^ ^^^r-,- 



Never, O never! A^ r"^- 

^■^■'■" 

Where shall the traitor rest, ^^% 

He, the deceiver, 
Who could win maiden's breast, 

Ruin, and leave her ? 
In the lost battle, 

Borne down by the flying, 
Wliere mingles war's rattle 

With groans of the dying. 

Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the false-hearted ; 
His warm l)lood the wolt shall lap, 

Ere life be parted. 
Shame and dishonor sit 



^''^^^^N 



By his grave ever, \L^ 

Blessing shall hallow It,— ^ 

Never. O never! —dllamiion. 




Zbc IRoee. 

THE rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 
And h.ope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. 

wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 

1 bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. 
Emblem of hope and love through future years ! " 
Thus spoke young ISTorman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennacher's broad wave. 

— The Lady of the Lake. 




Sol&ier's Sons. 

OUR vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown 
bowl. 
That there's wrath and despair in the bonny 

black-j ack, 
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 
Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor, 
Drink upsees out, and a flg for the vicar! 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 

The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip. 

Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly. 

And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye. 

Yet whoop. Jack! kiss G-illian the quicker, 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a flg for the vicar! 

—The Lady of the bake. 



Hn tbe X06t Battle. 

~YXT"ITH fruitless labor, Clara bound, 
VV And strove to stanch the g-ushlng wound; 
The Monk, with unavailing cares. 
Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 
Ever, he said, that, close and near, 
A lady's voice Avas in his ear. 
And that the priest he could not hear, 

For that she ever sung-, 
"In the lost battle, borne down by the flying;, 
Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the 
dying!" 

So the notes rung;— 
"Avoid thee, Fiend I— with cruel hand. 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand !— 
O, look, niy son, upon yon sign 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 

O, think on faith and bliss!— 
By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen. 

But never aught like this."— 
The war, that for a space did fail, ^ 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale. 

And STANLEY! was the cry; 
A light on Marinion's visage spread, 

And flred his glazing eye; 
With dying hand above his head. 
He shook the fragments of his blade. 

And shouted "Victory!— 
Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " 

Were the last words of Marmion. 

— ullarmion. 




'*-T 




®, "QHloman! tin ®ur Iboure 
of jgaec. 

^J /^ Woman! in our hours of ease, 
^'^-' Vy Uncertain, coy and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou!— 
Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran: 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs and fears; 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 
She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 

But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, ^^,(^y 
Where raged the war, a dark red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn? behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 
Where water, clear as diamond-spark, 

In a stone basin fell. 
AboA^e, some half-worn letters say. 

" Drink, weary pilgrim, drink, and pra^ 
For the kind soul of Sybil Grey, 

Who built this ci'oss and well." 




She filled the helm, and "back she hied, 
And with surprise and joy espied 

A monk supporting Marmion's head: 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 

— 9)Tarmicn. 




Xuci? Hebton'e Song. 



~T~ OOK not thou on beauty's charming,— 
^-^ Sit thou still when kings are arming,— 
Taste not when the wine-cup glistens,— 
Speak not when the people listens,— 
Stop thine ear against the singer,— 
From the red gold keep thy finger,- 
Vacant heart and hand and eye, 
Easy live and quiet die. 

— %he oBride cf l/ammermocr. 




^be Stag at £vc 1ba& Brunft 
1bt9 ifill. 



THE stag" at eve had drunk liis fill, 
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 
And deep his midnight lair had made 
In lone G-lenartney's hazel shade; 
But, when the sun his beacon red 
Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 
The deep-mouth'd bloodhound's heavy bay 
Resounded up the rocky way, 
And faint, from farther distance borne, 
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 



As Chief, who hears his warder call, 

"To arms! the foemen storm the wall, 

The antler'd monarch of the waste ' ^'^ ^ 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

But, ere his fleet career he took, 

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; 

Like crested leader proud and high, 

Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; 

A moment gazed adown the dale, 

A moment snuflf'd the tainted gale, 

A moment listen'd to the cry. 

That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; 

Then, as the headmost foes appear'd. 

With one brave bound the copse he clear'd. 

And, stretching forward free and far, 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

— ^he Lady of the Lake 








J 



» ^% 



Sol6ter, 1Re0t! 

"QOLDIER, rest! thy warfare o'er, 

^ Sleep the sleep that knows not hreaking; 
Dream of "battle fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing. 
Fairy strains of music fall, '^y^' 

Every sense in slumher dewing. 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of fighting fields no more : 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 

"No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang, nor war-steed champing, ^ 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan, or squadron trampin 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum. 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here ; 
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping." 

—The Lady of the bake 




Zbc flDornins flDtetee 

r I IHE morning mists rose from the g-round, 
-L Each merry bird awaken'd round, 

As if in revelry ; 
Afar the bugles' clanging sound 
Call'd to the chase the lagging hound; 

The gale breathed soft and free,\j\4/;;,^ 
And seem'd to linger on its way 
To catch fresh odors from the spray, 
And waved it in its wanton play 

So light and gamesomely. 
The scenes which morning beams reveal, 
Its sounds to hear, its gales to feel 
In all their fragrance round him steal, ^X ^^^^ 
It melted Harold's heart of steel, y^*^"""^ 

And, hardly wotting why, ^^^^i^> 
He doff'd his helmet's gloomy pride, v,' 
And hung it on a tree beside. 

Laid mace and falchion by, 
And on the greensward sate him down, 
And from his dark habitual frown 

Relax'd his rugged brow— 
Whoever hath the doubtful task 
Prom that stern Dane a boon to ask. 

Were wise to ask it now. 

— JHfanld the Q)auntless. 




Ibarp of tbe mortb. 

HARP of the North, farewell ! the hills grow dark, 
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 
The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. 
Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, 
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 
Thy numhers sweet with nature's vespers blending. 

With distant echo from the fold and lea. 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 

-f 

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, /,, 



Some spirit of the air has waked thy string! ^ . ,. 
'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of Are, ^.'if^'^ ^t^ 

'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing ' /' f^,^ 
Receding now, the dying embers ring 
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, 
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell— 
And now, 'tis silent all!— Enchantress, fare the well! 

The Lady of the Lake. 




^ doronacb. 



HE is gone on the ino"antain, 
He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest 
The font, reappearing-, 

From raindrops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, 
To Duncan, no morrow! 




The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper - 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
But our flower was in flushing. 

When blighting was nearest 



Fleet foot on the correi, '^^^' ^ 

Sage counsel in cumber, 
Red hand in the foray, 

How sound is thy slumber! 
Like the dew on the mountain, J^"% 

Like the foam on the river, ^/ '. ^ 
Like the bubble on the fountain, ' ^ 

Thou art gone, and forever ! 

—Thf Lady cf the Lake. 




Hutumn 2)epart0. 

AUTUMN departs— but still his mantle's, fold 
Rests on the grove of noble Somerville, 
Beneath a shroud of russet dropp'd with g-old 
Tweed and his tributaries mingle still; 
Hoarser the wind, and deeper sounds the rill, 
Yet lingering- notes of sylvan music swell, 
The deep-toned cushat, and the red-breast shrill 
And yet some tints of summer splendor tell '>l|; 
When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's 
western fell. 




Deem'st thou these sadden'd scenes have pleasure 

still, 
Lovest thou through Autumn's fading realms 

to stray, 
To see the heath-flower wither'd on the hill. 
To listen to the wood's expiring lay, 
To note the red leaf shivering on the spray, 
To mark the last bright tints the mountain sta.in, 
On the waste fields to trace the gleaner's way, 
And moralize on mortal joy and pain?— 
O ! if such scenes thou lovest, scorn not the minstrel 

strain. , , ,_ 

■The Lord of the hies. 





Song. 



q^T 






m 



^, I ,HE heath this night must he my hed, 

The hracken, curtain for my head, 
My lullahy the warder's tread, 

Far, far from love and thee, Mary; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid! 

It will not waken me, Mary! 
I may not, dare not, fancy now 
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow; 
I dare not think upon thy vow, ^""'^^^ ^^ ' 

And all it promised me, Mary, ^5^ i 



No fond regret must Norman know; 
When bursts Clan- Alpine on the foe, 
His heart must be like bended bow. 
His foot like arrow free, Mary. 




A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought, 
Thy hapless lover's dying, thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
And if return'd from conquer'd foes, 
How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To my young bride and me, Mary! 

— ^he Lady of the Lake. 



^ 



V V 




% 

^ 



^be flDoon t0 in Iber Summer (Blow. 



rTlHE Moon is in lier summer glow, 
-*- But lioarse and liigli the "breezes blow, 
And, racking- o'er lier face, tlie cloud 
Varies tlie tincture of her shroud ; 
On Barnard's towers, and Tee's stream, 
She changes as a guilty dream. 
When Conscience, with remorse and fear, 
Groads sleeping Fancy's wild career. 
Her light seems now the blush of shame, 
Seems now tierce anger's darker flame, 
Shifting that shade, to come and go. 
Like apprehension's hurried glow; 
Then Sorrow's livery dims the air, 
And dies in darkness, like despair. 
Such varied hues the warder sees 
Reflected from the woodland Tees, 
Then from old Baliol's. tower looks forth, 
Sees the clouds mustering in the north, 
Hears, upon turret-roof and wall. 
By fits the plashing rain-drop fall. 
Lists to the breezes' boding sound. 
And wraps liis shaggy mantle round. 

—The Lady of the Lake. 




So ifllte the TKIlorl&'e IHncertatn 
Span! 



So flits the ^Y0^1d's uncertain span ! 
Nor zeal for God, nor love for man, 
Gives mortal monuments a date 
Beyond the power of Time and Fate. 
The towers must share the builder's doom; 
Ruin is theirs, and his a tomb: 
But better boon benig-nant Heaven 
To Faith and Charity has given. 
And bids the Christian hope sublime 
Transcend the bounds of Fate and Time. 

. -Rckehy. 



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